


Warmer Than Sunshine

by Addie_D_123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dehydration, Depression, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:51:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Addie_D_123/pseuds/Addie_D_123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is burning outside his door.  But to Dean, the world already ended the day Sam died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmer Than Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Supernatural fic ever! So if you happen to come across it and actually read it, any comments would be greatly appreciated. xo

Dean shivers against the sudden chill in the air, blinking against the single beam of sunlight that cuts through the dusty room and pools at his feet. The bunker is silent other than the sound of his own ragged breathing as slowly, he pushes himself up from the mattress on shaking legs and makes his way towards the kitchen. His body moves forward automatically while his brain attempts to catch up, the gears grinding painfully in a head that’s swollen and throbbing.

Grabbing a mostly clean glass off the counter he fills it halfway from the tap, immediately gulping it down and clutching at his rolling stomach. He knows he is supposed to drink water, but he can’t quite remember why. He’s still chasing an idea of a memory around his head as he downs another glass and swallows repeatedly to keep it down. Eat. That was the other thing he knows he’s supposed to do. But that means leaving the bunker, and that’s not something he can handle right now. Dean shuffles down the hallway back to Sam’s bedroom, and shuts the door behind him with a soft click.

Flopping down on the bed he shudders again, wrapping his jacket tighter around him and that’s when he smells it. Sam. He had almost forgotten that he was wearing his jacket; the dark blue one with the tiny tear in the elbow. Sam’s clothes had always been a bit big on him, a fact that Sam himself found endlessly hilarious. The way his jackets hung loose around Dean’s shoulders and the sleeves would swallow up his hands were a point of pride for his oversized little brother.

Dean carefully licks his dry and cracked lips and takes a deep breath that pops his spine and tastes like pennies. He blows the breath out slowly and rubs at the cold spot in his chest that aches like there’s a little part of him missing. Dean is pretty sure he knows what it is.  
He is just drifting back off to sleep when he hears it.

_“Eat.”_

That little voice that he was chasing around in his head like a memory just out of reach, it’s grown much stronger now.

_“Eat.”_

Stronger and louder and it sounds like-

“Sam?”

The word barely squeaks out of Dean’s dry, raw throat. He clears it roughly and it sounds too loud in the suddenly quiet room. He doesn’t think he’s spoken out loud for days.

_“Hey Dean.”_

Dean can hear a smile in Sam’s voice as he speaks. That Sammy grin that came so easy when they were kids. The missing puzzle piece that fits perfectly to the hole in Dean’s chest.

Easy and free and warmer than sunshine.

Dean shakes his head sharply and closes his eyes as the room begins to spin. He is trying to clear his head and remember exactly what day it is when Sam interrupts.

_“Dean. Hey man you’re not looking so good.”_

His voice is a little softer now and colored with concern. Dean huffs a breath through his nose and attempts a smirk.

“Not feeling so good either Sam. You know it’s sort of Hell on Earth over here. Haven’t had a chance to get to the spa.”

Now it’s Sam’s turn for sarcasm. _“You’re hilarious Dean.”_

And Dean smiles for real, because he’s sure he can hear the bitchface in Sam’s voice.

“You love it.” Dean chuckles to himself and his next deep breath comes a lot easier.

 _“Dean.”_ His voice soft again. _“You gotta eat something, it’s been...how long has it been?”_

His stomach seems to spring to life at Sam’s statement and it burns with renewed vigor. Dean wraps his arms around his stomach with a grimace and feels the too fast flutter of his heartbeat.

“No can do Sam. There’s no food left in the bunker and outside…” Deans looks blankly at the ceiling. “Outside there’s just nothing left.”

The air is still and heavy with the smell of Sam. Dean lays his arm over his eyes and waits a few beats and when there’s no response he continues.

“There’s nothing left for me here anymore Sam. The world has gone to shit, everything is just burning and ever since…” He swallows hard against the bile rising in his throat. “Ever since you died I’m having a real hard time finding a reason to try.”

And Dean can picture Sam’s face perfectly. The little arch of concern between his eyebrows. The twisted little pout of his mouth. He knows he’s disappointed him again, but that’s what Dean’s best at. Letting everyone he loves down. Sam’s sudden upbeat tone drags him out of his head.

_“Hey Dean, do you remember that kid that was staying next door to us, at that motel in Lansing?”_

Dean slides the arm off his eyes and blinks hard to clear his vision. He works his jaw to loosen it where it feels locked tight.

“Yeah Sammy, I remember him. Uh, his name was Dennis, I think.  At the Marigold Motel.”

_“Shit, you always have the best memory for stuff like that.”_

“And here I thought it was your dork brain that was filled with useless facts.” Dean smiles wider at the sounds of his brother’s soft laugh. “I taught that little shit a lesson.”

 _“Dean, you convinced him his little sister was a changeling and that she was going to eat him in his sleep.”_ And he’s using that exasperated tone that is just so Sam.

Dean tries to laugh but chokes on an inhale and violent coughs leave him trembling all over. There’s a sickly sweet taste in the back of his throat and he feels cold down to his bones.

“He deserved it. He tripped you and you tore your knees up real bad. I couldn’t get you to stop crying.” He tucks his hands further into the sleeves to try and warm them. “You were so little then, five-years-old. Dad was gone and you were…wailing.” Dean pulls absently at one long sleeve. “I’m surprised you remember.”

_“I remember a lot Dean. All the stuff you did, I remember everything.”_

Dean feels his muscles relax as the room suddenly seems almost too bright and he thinks Sam must be smiling.

“Hey Sammy.”

_“Yeah?”_

“What made you think of that anyway?”

Sam pauses and Dean feels the room get dimmer. His tongue feels fat in his mouth and all this talking has left him so, so tired.

_“I’ve just been thinking about a lot of things. About when we were kids. And I just wanted to say thanks, you know. For everything.”_

Dean doesn’t think he’s crying because his eyes are dry but everything is blurry and the inside of his head burns. He wants to wipe his hand across his face but his arms won’t seem to cooperate anymore.

“Sammy. I miss you man.”

_“I miss you too Dean.”_

“I let you die.”

Every time it hits him it feels like the first time, like Sam dying all over again.

_“Dean…”_

“A human Sam. Everything we’ve gone up against. Monsters and demons, Heaven and Hell? And some random asshole shoots you in the parking lot of a shit bag motel and you’re gone!”

_“Dean…”_

“I fucked up Sammy. And you know what the worst part was? You died all alone.” Dean’s voice echoes high and tight in the bare room, he gasps for breath between almost every word. “I had"… _gasp_ …"to go get a drink, it was so goddamned"… _gasp_ …"important. I wasn’t there…I wasn’t there.” His voices dies off as his air runs out.

Sam’s voice cuts in, low and knowing. _“You have to promise me something Dean. You can’t bring me back. Not again, not this time.”_

“Sam.”

Dean’s heartbeat stutters and it’s like a tiny bird beating its wings against his sternum.

_“Dean just listen. I need you to do something for me okay? I need you to trust me, and soon it will all be over.”_

“Sam, you’re lost and I can’t find you, I need to find you…my kid brother.” Dean’s hands are tingling, his face is hot and he wonders why he still can’t cry.

_“Dean, you need to let go okay? And then you can come find me. Can you do that for me?”_

And Dean thinks that’s a stupid question, because he has never been able to say no to Sam.

_“Dean, I’ll be waiting for you here, man.”_

Just like that Dean remembers where he is and where’s he’s been. He’s been holding on to nothing for so long and he thinks maybe he just needed his brother’s permission to let go. His Sammy, his little five-year-old brother with his puppy dog eyes and his a face clouded with so much worry. His grown man of a brother with so much compassion and understanding and selflessness. The brother that used to look up to him, and maybe could again.

If he could change anything he would have died in that parking lot, shot through his stupid broken heart and swimming in a pool of his own blood. But he never got to tell Sam how weak he was, how wrong he was or just how sorry he was. And yes, it’s just like that that he remembers the pain all over again, and it cracks him wide open, all sharp edges and unhealed wounds.

“Hey Sam?”

_“Yeah Dean?”_

“You’re not really Sammy, are you?” He means it like a question but it comes out as a statement.

There’s a soft sigh before he speaks. _“No, I’m not.”_   Sam’s voice sounds weaker again, retreating back into Dean’s mind like that distant memory. _“I’m sorry Dean, I know it hurts.”_

Dean looks down at his chest as if he can see the source of the pain there, but he only see the rise and fall of his chest with every shallow breath.

_“Dean, do you want me to make you forget again?”_

And now it’s Sam’s turn to take care of his big brother, and Dean is so very proud of him like he’s been so many times before.

But Dean just nods softly, and as he does black spots begin to swim in from of his vision. Dean shivers against the sudden chill in the air, looking over to the beam of sunlight that has shrunk down into the far corner, like it’s hiding from him.

Dean knows he’s not supposed to get up, he’s just supposed to just stay still but he can’t remember why. He pushes himself up from the bed and attempts to stand but his legs won’t hold him. As he crumples to the floor and hears the crack of his head slamming into the bare concrete, he barely registers the pain. He wills his arms and legs to move but they just lay limply, mocking him as he struggles and grunts.

He’s just about to float away and let the darkness take him with it when he hears it.

_“Dean?”_

That little voice that he was chasing around in his head like a memory just out of reach, it’s grown much stronger now.

_“Dean.”_

And louder and it almost sounds like…

“Sam?”

Dean can only manage a whisper now, he’s just so tired. The floor is mercifully cool against his suddenly fevered skin.

_“Hey Dean.”_

Dean can hear a smile in Sam’s voice as he speaks. That Sammy grin that came so easy when they were kids. The missing puzzle piece that fits perfectly to the hole in Dean’s chest.

 

Easy and free and warmer than sunshine.


End file.
